The Flower of Freedom
by AnonymousWolf1022
Summary: *POLITCALLY SENSITIVE* 4th June, 1989. Thousands of unnamed fighters lost their lives for their dreams of democracy in an armed suppression. Thirty years later, Leon was still haunted by the nightmares of that fateful night, and finally decided that he could not take it anymore. He would show Yao what he deserves for slaughtering so many innocent souls. [Rewrite in progress]


_~8:09 p.m.. 3rd June, 1989._

 _~Tiananmen Square, Beijing._

"Riiiiiing~Riiiiiiing~" The mobile phone in his pocket starts ringing.

"Hi mum."

"Oh my goodness son, I was so worried about you!" His mother shouted frantically into the phone. "I saw from the TV that the Liberation Army had entered the city this afternoon, and that they were preparing to clear the scene! I mean, they could've used violence, and I was so worried that you were hurt! It nearly gave me a heart attack! Oh thank God that you're alright!"

He gave a small laugh. "Oh mum, really, you shouldn't have been so worried! Look, I'm fine, at least I'm still in one piece, right? The soldiers that came into the square were young ones, I think they were probably about my age. To be honest, they were actually quite friendly to us. We spent some time negotiating with them. Actually, they seem to have no intention of clearing the scene right now, peacefully or violently." He replied, smiling.

"Mmm, okay, fine. Oh, are you still on hunger strike?" His mother asked.

"Yeah."

"Aren't you hungry, then?"

"…yes, I am. But..." He faltered and trailed off, unsure of how to put his feelings into words.

"What's the matter?" He could hear his mother's concern from her tone of voice.

"…Mum, I'm very hungry, but I-I just don't have the appetite…!" He finally said.

"…I understand." His mother sighed heavy-heartedly. "Son..." She began, but paused.

"Yes, mum?"

"…please be careful, and stay safe! She pleaded. The future of our society is in the hands of you students!"

"Okay, I know. Thanks mum, it really means a lot to me. Um, I'll call you again tomorrow?" He replied.

"Sure."

"Ok. Don't worry, Mum, Democracy is going to triumph over tyranny!" He said, determined to strive for their goals despite anything, despite the obvious displeasure of the government over their demonstrations.

"…I do hope so. Stay safe! Call me again tomorrow!"

"Sure, bye!"

He did not realise at that time, though, that this would be the last time he heard his mother's voice.

* * *

 _~4:06 a.m.. 4th June, 1989._

"Hey! Wake up!"

He woke up to a shrill cry that pulled him out of his dreamless sleep. What, he thought, rather annoyed at the fact that he had been woken up by the noise. Why are people waking others up in the middle of the night? What are they thinking about? "Beats me," he muttered, before sitting up. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing to alarm him, it looked pretty much the same as it had been earlier that night, only a little darker now. It must be around midnight now, He was about to lie down and drift back to sleep….

when blood-curdling screams sounded from the other side of the Square, the kind of screams that made every hair on your body stand on end.

"What the hell is happening?" He questioned the student to his right. The only reply he got was a slow shake of the head and a look of bewilderment much like his own.

"Retreat! Retreat!" Someone yelled urgently into the microphone. "Quick! RUN!" He wasn't able to comtemplate the meaning of the order when he heard it; but after a few seconds, realization struck him as he finally understood. It must be the Liberation Army! They are coming to clear the Square! But why? Why now, and why do it? He didn't quite understand their motives, but that was not the important point. What are they doing here? Are they really going to clear the scene? Yet there was no mistaking it, as cries echoed in the cool morning air.

He quickly got to his feet and joined the mass of students making their way out of the square. His mind was in turmoil and thoughts crashed through his fear. This is the moment that we've all been so afraid to see happening, all of our efforts wasted, everything that we've done, everything that we've sacrificed-we've done them all in vain if we leave now. Maybe, just maybe...perhaps, we were destined to fail from the very start. He wanted to stay where he was, to stay there and shout to the world that they, the students, would never give up no matter the circumstances, that democracy would surely triumph in the end-yet from the screams and cries that rang out throughout the sky, he knew that it was not possible. The situation was critical, and he really should leave despite what his heart desired.

The people around him were shouting to one another asking if anyone knew what was going on."I heard someone say that the Liberation Army had brought tanks into the Square, they said they were running over students who tried to stop them!" He immediately felt colour draining from his face. What?! He was stunned at what he had just heard. They are going to carry out an armed suppression?! Then...then bloodshed would be inevitable! His heart felt cold and he shuddered at the very thought.

The roaring sound of a bullet shattered the deadly silence of the night sky. A few seconds later the lights in the Square spluttered out and the only remaining light came from the few torches held by demonstraters. A vollley of bullets followed bursting into the crowd drawing agonising cries from those who had been hit.

"RUN!" Someone screamed from the direction of the main stage. He whipped his head around, and gazed into the eerie glow in the distance. The statue of the goddess of liberty still stood firmly on the stage, yet she was now surrounded by flames and the shadows of marching soldiers.

Shit, he cursed in his head, as he remembered that some of his friends had their tents over there-by the foot of the stage. He knew for sure that he could not and would not forgive himself if anything happened to any of them, especially if he had had the strength to save them . Although deep down, he knew that to go over to that side of the square was a huge risk, one that he may have to pay for with his life, he still was determined to save his friends. Besides, he didn't allow himself to believe that the army would really kill people. Pushing through the crushing crowd, he started towards the opposite direction.

He hadn't even arrived by the stage before bullets came whizzing past. The surge of people suddenly cleared, and he walked into empty grounds as he approached his destination.

He was met with a brutal scene, a scene worse than his worst nightmare, worse than all of his imaginations. He shivered unconsciously, yet continued walking, step by step.

The concrete ground was strewn with dark red liquid and corpses, dead bodies that could no longer be identified by normal means. The bullet wounds that had ripped through living flesh, leaving in their wake gaping lacerations that distorted their victims, were solid evidence of the armed suppression. His mind went blank as he took in the scene, unwilling to accept that this was the truth. He didn't know what to do, and his brain refused to work. The friends that he knew, the people who had stood with him throughout the strike-were they all like the corpses he saw, laying silently on the pavement, looking onto the bloody battlefield without a word, and waiting to be cleared away, to be burnt into ashes?

He was too frightened to make any guesses or even think properly, and could only hope with all his heart that fate would not be so cruel. Dragging his cold, numb body forward, he continued his search.

"Help! Can anyone help us?!" A plea for help sounded from the other side of the stage. Hearing the urgency in the shout, he immediately raced to where the voice had come from. A young man was lying on the ground, crimson liquid flowed silently from his chest, darkening his shirt with a oily wine stain. Another man, kneeling beside him, was desperately trying to staunch the blood flow with his shirt. Haunted eyes looked up to him, beseeching him to save his injured friend. "Help, please! C-can you help me carry him to the hospital? H-he's dying! Please, help me!"

Seeing the despair in the other man's eyes, his fear of tanks and troops dissipated into the cool morning air. "Sure, don't worry, I'll help you," He kneeled down and in that split second, nothing else mattered.

The sudden ring of shrill sirens of an ambulance startled him, yet brought a sliver of hope to the hell-like place. The finishing line was already in sight, just a few more steps and they'd be there-he mustered up what he had left of his strength and courage, and along with the injured man's friend, they crossed the last of the danger zone, and hauled the barely conscious man onto the white car. The attendants in the ambulance lay the man down on a stretcher, and the car took off to the hospital in a flash of white, red and blue a minute later.

Phew, he thought to himself. Th-That was...close. He remembered vaguely why he was here, to look for his friends. He headed back to the stage area; he didn't know if his friends were still there, but he knew that he had to try and find them.

As he was crossing the open area to the stage, a shot rang out abruptly. His body tensed as adrenaline poured through his system. Pain exploded in his chest, forcing the oxygen from his lungs. He turned to where the shot had come from, and locked eyes with a soldier. There was a small smile on the soldier's face, and his eyes were as cold as a glacier. A thin wisp of smoke lingered at the mouth of the gun.

In a split second, a wave of piercing pain shot through his whole being, attacking his chest violently. Spasms of pain followed, and he slumped to the floor. He looked down to where the bullet had hit him; blood oozed from the gunshot wound just below his sternum. He felt as though his ribcage was being crushed by an invisible force; the agony of it was too much to bear. Before he finally succumbed to the darkness before him, the very last cry escaped from his throat...

 **Time halted itself.**

He opened his heavy eyelids. An infinite darkness unraveled before his eyes, enveloping him in its shadows, and a disturbing silence was the only sound he could hear.

After what seemed like an eternity, a ray of soft golden light shone on his body, and a nostalgic melody sounded from an invisible music box. He blinked, and a person in pure white appeared before him.

"You are a good person. You fought well until the end, for all of your people's ideals and goals." The white messenger said with a warm smile on his cheeks.

"Then why can't I go back?! Why can't I go back, to fulfill my responsibility and mission?! Why?! Why did I have to die?!" He demanded, converting the fury and anguish that was bottled up in his heart into a roar.

The person before him shook his head with a small, sad smile. "Child, this is the truth of the unmerciful fate, and you must learn to accept it. You have already died, and I am in no position to bring you back to life. Besides, I have no power to do so either."

"Then what about my parents?! My friends?! Where are they?! I cannot leave them just like this!" He shouted.

"They have their own destinies. I cannot intervene with them. The only thing that I can do for you, is to bring you to heaven, and send to them your last message."

"...Then, will...will I be able to see them in heaven?" He asked, his voice shaking, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

"Uh...how shoud I say this to you? Yes, you can, though in a different way you may have imagined it to be," the person in white replied, slightly unsure of how he should word it.

He breathed out heavily and closed his eyes. "A-alright... Thank you..." He said with a wavering voice.

The person nodded. "Come with me."

He felt his being becoming thinner and lighter. The messenger in white held out both hands, and clasped his hands in his. He understood that now, surely, they were on their way to heaven; he was about to leave the world he had called home for the last twenty years.

'Thank you all so much, dad and mum, and my good friends. I'm so sorry...I wasn't able to defend our dreams and goals in the end. I hope you will forgive me for this. Perhaps, one day in the distant future, we may meet again, and I hope that when that day comes, you will still remember me...'

After shouting out his thoughts in his heart, his consciousness started towards the warm beam of light descending from the skies, finally leaving this world for ever.

* * *

 _~8:00 p.m.. 4th June, 2019._

It had been thirty years since that fateful night. He sighed at the realisation of how fast time had flown. If he was still alive, he would have been a middle-aged man, dark hair fading into a light grey, and about to step into old age in some ten years' time...If he was still alive. Yet he wasn't, he was dead; and his body would forever remain in the form of a twenty year old man.

But...where is mother, and how is she faring in that world? He wondered. How come he could not find her even in heaven, where he was supposed to be able to see the world beneath him? Why was he unable to locate her? He did not know the answer to his own question.

However, it did not matter to the world. The world would not stop, time would still continue running into the future, and everything would still go on, no matter how that night turned out in the end. He saw that the people in his hometown continued with their work, preoccupied with their work and daily life. The happenings that night were nonexistent in their memories, as if they had never happened in the first place.

Naivety, meant that the people did not have to bear the heavy burden of painful memories. But it also meant that the truth had become obscured with lies and cover-ups. He didn't know if he should feel glad for the people, or if he should feel pained by the loss of truth.

「忘不了的，年月也不會蠶蝕;

心中深處始終也記憶那年那夕... ...」

Faint voices of singing made their way to his ears. Each and every sentence delivered a heavy blow to his heart, and he spun around instinctively, gazing at where it came from.

In one of the corners of his home country, he discovered that there was a group of people who still remembered, who still held onto those painful memories. With candlelights in their hands, and the sorrowful singing filled with respect, they tried hard to write down the truth on the blank page of the history of the same night, thirty years ago.

He smiled bitterly. He knew that his heart was bleeding. These people, whom he didn't even know, these strangers... They stood firmly under the dark sky pouring with rain, fearless of the storm against them, seeking justice for the unjustly treated three decades before. Yet he also knew that all their efforts would be in vain, even though these people's hearts were like his, weeping, bleeding...

How ironic that his heart was "bleeding". Didn't it lose all of its blood already? He could never forget that scene before his eyes, when he saw his chest being ripped open by the bullet, crimson blood literally pouring out like a scarlet waterfall from his failing heart. This was why he had died. This was why he was here right now. Didn't his heart lose the ability to bleed, long ago?

There was no response from the infinite darkness. In the still, silent night, only the heart-breaking singing continued.

「但有一個夢，不會死，記著吧! 無論雨怎麼打，自由仍是會開花;

但有一個夢，不會死，記著吧! 來自你我的心，記著吧!」

Was it true, what the lyrics were saying? Were they true? Could it maybe have given him hope when he most needed it?

He did not know the answer to his own questions. And perhaps, he would never know.

* * *

(End of Part 1)

(The Hetalia stuff will be in part 2)

* * *

*Translations for the lyrics

「忘不了的，年月也不會蠶蝕;

心中深處始終也記憶那年那夕... ...」

This literally translates to: "Those (events) that cannot be forgotten, will withstand the test of time; in the depths of our hearts we will always remember that day, that night..."

「但有一個夢，不會死，記著吧! 無論雨怎麼打，自由仍是會開花;

但有一個夢，不會死，記著吧! 來自你我的心，記著吧!」

This literally translates to: "If only you have a dream, you will never die, remember this! No matter how hard the rain pelts down, freedom will always bloom; if only you have a dream, you will never die, remember this! Coming from deep within our hearts, remember this!"

Note: This is originally a song sung by a Taiwanese singer in Mandarin, but people have taken the tune of the song, re-named it and re-written the lyrics in Cantonese, commemorating the June Fourth incident in 1989. (Original name: "水手" meaning sailor, Re-named as: "自由花" meaning the flower of freedom) Since then, the song has become sort of an anthem of freedom, and every year at the candlelight vigil in Hong Kong, the crowds would sing the song together in Victoria Park, where the gathering is held, at about 8pm on 4th June every year.

If you are interested, here's a link to the song: /9L_qz7LuqVU

Other than typing out the Cantonese lyrics, this video has incorporated photos and video footages filmed on the night of 4th June, 1989 in Tiananmen Sqaure, as well as photos of the candlelight vigil in Hong Kong. The video was made in 2009 for the 20th "anniversary" of this incident.


End file.
